


Beds

by atmilliways



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And there was only one bedroom, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atmilliways/pseuds/atmilliways
Summary: Inspired by the book's comments that, first, the beds (plural) in Crowley's flat are always made, and that, second, there is only one bedroom.





	Beds

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally Posted:** Sept 30, 2010 on Fanfiction dot Net  
**Set:** Who knows, I wrote this nine years ago. I haven’t even taken the time to fact-check myself on the two beds one room thing.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

The beds in Crowley's flat were always made — with the single exception of when Crowley occasionally slept in one of them. There were two, decorating the single bedroom much the same way a vase of plastic flowers might be put out to "liven things up a bit." 

If there had been a second exception it would have had something to do with Aziraphale. It seemed, however, that the angel knew a trick for getting under the covers without mussing them in the slightest, which was probably the polite way for one's body to intrude into the fabric's simple world if one _ absolutely must _.

Crowley always took great pleasure in intruding as rudely as possible.

They would occupy the twin beds on those occasions that they'd put in a good evening of drinking and didn't quite feel like sobering up. Usually these nights fell on a Saturday, since Sunday was, after all, a day of rest. Crowley usually took the bed on the left; Aziraphale preferred the right.

This time, one of them was helping the other to a bed, and both of them thought they were doing the helping. (For Crowley, being helpful was acceptable on the grounds that sleeping in the next morning counted towards Sloth.) Sometime during this their hands got tangled together, which they realized when they tried to part and couldn't.

Crowley shrugged and waved the beds closer together. Aziraphale helped. The frames knocked together with a muffled thump.

"Do two twin beds," Aziraphale wondered out loud, "make a queen bed?"

"Don't even talk to me about Queen," Crowley warned blearily, and flopped down on the left side. This had the effect of yanking the angel down after him.

"Ooof."

Once the angel had rolled off onto his own side, they both lay there for a moment. Aziraphale stared up at the ceiling thinking he should put on those very stylish tartan pajamas he'd brought. It would be a shame to let them go to waste, and they were very comfortable. He knew they were, because he'd tried them on in the store, so it would be a shame not to... 

"D'you _ have _ to think out loud?" Crowley interrupted, mumbling into his pillow. With his free hand, he made what might have been correctly interpreted as a vaguely rude gesture if Aziraphale had been looking, which he wasn't. "There. Now just be quiet, m'kay? Sssleep."

Aziraphale found that he was now wearing the pajamas. They were just as comfortable as he remembered, although some of the top buttons had been left rakishly undone in a manner that he didn’t approve of but couldn’t be bothered to fix just now. He yawned. "Really, my dear boy..."

“Wha’...?” Crowley yawned back, and started squirming around until he’d burrowed under the covers like a sand viper, only the top of his head and most of one arm exposed.

“You know—” Aziraphale began to retort, then looked over and sighed. “What you did,” he finished softly, so as not to wake the now sleeping demon. Naps were something he didn’t think he would ever understand. They didn’t _ need _ to sleep. 

Of course, they didn’t need to eat either. And yet, every time, Crowley always hung around long after the waiters had taken his plate away and replaced it with an espresso, watching idly while Aziraphale finished savoring the meal and, more often than not, dessert. 

The angel sighed again and settled in for a companionable wait, their hands still clasped together.


End file.
